


Adjusting for Children in the Workplace

by Yobotica



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: AU, Fluff, Gen, LITERALLY, M/M, Post-AC3, Prompt Fic, desmond is a tiny child, for a little while anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yobotica/pseuds/Yobotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post AC3 AU: Desmond is turned into a child and Shaun is certain this is hardest on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for the kinkmeme, but I think it went too far astray from what was desired, so I'm posting it here. I'll link to the prompt when I've finished posting it.
> 
> Fair warning: Not beta'd, so if you read it despite that, I'll love you lots.
> 
> ETA: Here is the link to the original prompt:
> 
> http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=11234414#cmt11234414

"You would think helping to save the world meant some time off," Shaun muttered, to no one but himself, because there _was_ no one but himself in his little office. But, no; there was no time off. In fact, ensuring that the world didn't end only meant they could finally focus on _everything else_ that was currently wrong with it. It wasn't like they lacked for people to save, or threats to neutralize, or extremely powerful enemies to avoid.  
  
It wasn't even that Shaun didn't like his work; because he did. He was constantly busy even now, offering support for the teams in the field in addition to his regular computer work: cracking Templar archives, or his own particular type of research. Since Desmond was no longer needed in the animus, he no longer had to update _that_ particular database, but sometimes he still did because he genuinely enjoyed it. Shaun was just a little restless because he'd kind of hoped saving the world would actually change some things, but it didn't, really. Things were now back to 'normal' - which was kind of a let down, all things told.  
  
Still, he was grateful he could stay here - with the crisis averted, the entire Grand Temple had been open to them, and they were free to explore and clear out rubble and see what other secrets this place might hold. In his downtime, he would explore the parts of the temple that weren't too hard to reach, and it was all very _fascinating_. Shaun had yet to personally find anything more interesting than the 'manna machine', but he did take great joy in trying to get others to eat the stuff. Oddly, no one had taken him up on it yet, but he enjoyed the various reactions he got whenever he sampled the stuff. It  _still_ tasted like cardboard.  
  
While clearing the temple, they'd found actual living quarters - mostly undamaged, even! - and the original team now lived there, in addition to the new support staff. There had been some artifacts stored in some of the rooms that had been cleared from the rubble; those were sent off to people who would figure them out. With everything the temple had to offer, the Assassins ended up setting up a permanent base here, and had opened a sort of campground outside so the traffic wouldn't look too suspicious should anyone make their way to this somewhat remote location.  
  
Despite his grousing, things had been going well for the Assassins; there had been some victories against the Templars, whose position was a little shakier than the Assassins had dared hope. There should have been a clear heirarchy when their Grand Master died, but apparently there were a few people who thought they should have the position instead, and the resulting chaos made them vulnerable and sloppy - for now. The Assassins were taking full advantage as they were quite aware this was only temporary, and this was mostly what kept Shaun so busy.  
  
Desmond himself worked in the field often, but this was the base he always returned to. Just after the whole saving the world thing, he'd visited his mother at the Farm, but had stayed only two weeks before he'd returned to the Temple to work. He and his father still had a rocky relationship - Shaun honestly wasn't sure why Desmond chose to stay here when he could have his pick of teams - but in his own downtime, he explored the Temple as well, so maybe that was the reason. They still had a lot of questions, after all, and this place was the most likely to have at least _some_ answers.  
  
Shaun wasn't exactly sure where he stood with the man, and now that he actually _had_ time to be idle, he thought about it a little more than he was certain the situation warranted. They weren't quite friends, and Shaun was aware that it was mostly his fault; his sharp tongue never did him any favors, and even moreso when he was stressed - and 'stressed' was an inadequate descriptor for the last few months of his life. It wasn't like he was relaxing now, but he felt like he could, a little, and that alone seemed to be enough to have him worrying about matters he wasn't sure he even _should_ address.  
  
Desmond had only just returned from a mission, and was currently exploring the temple somewhere - he'd found a new room hidden behind some rubble he'd moved, and was describing it to them over the headsets they still wore; the temple was just too big and too unstable not to take such a precaution.  
  
"Yeah, it's not a big room. Maybe, eight feet by ten? Twelve? But there's something here. A machine of some kind," he said.  
  
"Desmond, put down a marker and we'll send a team to figure out what it does when we have time," Bill said, almost thoughtlessly, and Shaun rolled his eyes because it wasn't like Desmond was _stupid_ (which Shaun knew, despite what he himself might have said during his 'stressed' period). But sometimes, when Bill treated him like this, well... sometimes he reacted badly.  
  
"Yeah, I know, _Dad,_ " Desmond sighed. "It's not like the others, though. It's set into the floor. We definitely won't be able to move it." Shaun could hear that he'd taken off his little pack and was rooting in it for the little marker that would allow them to find the room, when a loud, deep sort of tone filled the headset.   
  
"Desmond? Did you touch it? Desmond, what is happening?," Bill snapped.  
  
"No, I didn't touch it! I was looking for the marker, and it just turned on. It's, oh, it's got a display. It's lit up. Like a touchpad! It's got writing on it," he murmured, and Shaun heard a little bit of rustling and then the snap of Desmond's phone, taking a few pictures.   
  
"Desmond," Bill began, and Desmond actually growled.   
  
"Dammit Dad, I _know_ , alright? I'm not a fucking child, I'm not going to touch it, Jesus!," he spat. Shaun's phone buzzed, and he saw that Desmond had sent him the photos of the display. He smiled, because Desmond sent them to _him_ , like he knew Shaun would want to see, but Shaun wasn't sure it actually meant anything. He kind of wanted it to, though.  
  
Bill sighed heavily, and retorted something back, but Shaun wasn't paying attention because not only were these fights so common he could practically recite the script along with them, but he was e-mailing himself the photos and already trying to puzzle out the letters. He _loved_ shit like this. But Desmond's sharp cry caught his attention again, and he looked up like he could see what was happening, like he wasn't in his makeshift office who knows how far from Desmond himself.  
  
There was another loud noise, and then a strange wet sort of sound and some rustling and a clatter. He knew that last one, though - that was the sound of the earpiece hitting the floor. Desmond (and sometimes Bill) had thrown theirs often enough.   
  
"Desmond?," he called, alongside Bill. "Desmond, what happened? Where are you? Bill, did he get the marker up?," he asked, already snagging one of the tracking devices and flicking it on. Luckily, these things were tagged with the time of activation, and he could already see that Desmond _had_ enabled the trace. Shaun hoped he wasn't somewhere too out of the way, because he wasn't exactly a field agent, and he definitely couldn't pull off a good half of the moves that Desmond could. Alright, alright, _more_ than half, but Shaun maintained that Desmond had some unfair advantages.  
  
"Shaun could you grab the-," Bill began, but Shaun was already there.   
  
"Already got it, Bill, meet me in the left hall near the kitchen," he said, jogging there. Desmond still hadn't responded, but they could hear a bit of movement. "Desmond? If you can hear us, respond," he added, but the earpiece hadn't been picked up, so he didn't actually have any hope that Desmond heard him.  
  
He met up with Bill and led the way, and there was _some_  climbing, but nothing they couldn't eventually manage. Shaun was a little out of breath, but a glance at Bill revealed that at least he wasn't the only one. Desmond never seemed out of breath, but Shaun refused to be embarassed.   
  
It took almost thirty minutes to locate the room, because it wasn't like the trackers had a map installed - they only knew relative distance, and the temple was like a huge maze. Shaun found the room first, and had to stop and stare for a moment. "Bill," he called, "Bill, here, you have to see this," and moved out of the doorway when the man showed up.  
  
In the room, near the machine that Desmond had described, was a kid, unconscious within clothing that was defintely far too big for him.  
  
Bill gasped and moved towards the figure. "Desmond?!," he breathed, and it wasn't like Shaun hadn't known (because who else could it possibly be?), but that was all the confirmation he needed. Desmond had somehow been turned into a child.

========

It took the better part of an hour, but Shaun and Bill managed to get the much younger Desmond back to the main Temple rooms. Desmond didn't wake at all during the trip despite Bill's best efforts. He _also_ couldn't fit in his clothes, so Shaun had bundled up his pants and socks and shoes, and the child-Desmond wore only his shirt for now.  
  
When they finally returned to the main hall, it was decided that Desmond should be put in Bill's room for now. No one argued about that, but they _did_ debate if he would remember anything after his apparent age, or if his memories would return to what they'd been when he was younger. If the former, then there was no damage aside from a possible argument; but if it was the latter, then Bill's face would be the only one Desmond would recognize, even if it had appeared to age overnight.   
  
Unfortunately, that meant Shaun had to go buy clothes that would fit this new Desmond. He only grumbled a little bit, because he definitely needed time to adjust to this new situation, and also he took nearly every excuse to get out of the Temple anyways, so his willingness to do so now was clearly expected. He took the van and a sizable portion of the cash they kept on hand, and went to the nearest Wal-mart for the clothes. It wasn't like they knew how long he'd be a child, so Shaun spent a little extra time to find the best possible deals. For a moment, while Shaun was price-checking boy's jeans, he was struck horrified by the thought that this might be _permanent,_ that Desmond might just have to grow up all over again.   
  
There he was, in Wal-mart, just staring at kids' jeans because maybe the guy he'd possibly had a tiny little sort of crush on was now a child and might remain that way. "God, my life is so fucked up," he muttered, and that earned him a sharp glance from a woman not too far away, shopping with her own sons.   
  
He only glared back, before grabbing the cheapest three pairs of jeans he'd found, and went to the shirts. And there another mini-crisis, because what kind of t-shirts should he get? It wasn't like Desmond knew who Thor was (or maybe he did. Or had? Shaun had never asked), and maybe he didn't like dinosaurs or sports teams, but just plain shirts were apparently endangered. It took him twenty minutes to find them, and they weren't hanging, they were folded up underneath even _more_ jeans.   
  
He grabbed shirts in various colors and then picked up socks and underwear and shoes that might be a _little_ too big, but he reasoned that was better than stuff that was too small. He couldn't bear to face a cashier and their inane small talk, so he broke the self-checkout rules instead.  
  
He called Bill on the way back; Desmond still hadn't woken up, but Bill wasn't too worried yet. Aside from the fact that his transformation was impossible, he seemed perfectly healthy otherwise.  
  
"I think he's turned back to probably eight or nine - the scar on his face he got when he was six, that's there, but the scar on his arm that he got when he was ten, that's not there." Shaun hummed quietly at that, and Bill was quiet for a few moments. "He just looks like he's sleeping," he murmured, and that was the softest Shaun had ever heard Bill's voice get. A little sad, almost wistful.  
  
"I'll uh. I'll be there soon, Bill," he said and hung up, because he had _no_  idea what to say to that. Shaun knew that in no universe would he ever be described as a helper, and right now, he'd have enough trouble adjusting to Desmond's new status as 'actual tiny child' as opposed to 'as mature as a tiny child' to even bother  _thinking_ about how hard it might be for anyone else, even Desmond's father.


	2. Chapter 2

When Shaun woke the next morning, it was before his alarm. It wasn't a dream or a nightmare that woke him, and for a moment, he was disoriented. _Desmond_ , he remembered, and sat upright. He knew he wouldn't get back to sleep anytime soon, so he washed up and dressed, and made his way to the kitchen, where Rebecca already had coffee waiting.   
  
"Morning, Shaun!," she said, cheery as ever, and Shaun grunted at her. She knew better than to take it personally. "Desmond's awake," she added. "He was a cute kid, y'know?"  
  
Shaun waited for his first few sips of coffee before he responded. "How's he looking? What does he remember?," he asked.  
  
"Looks like he only has his memories from when he was that age. Says he's eight, doesn't remember the animus or me, or, uh, anything that happened recently," she said, but she was smiling. "Bill's had some trouble, though," she added.  
  
"Trouble?," Shaun asked, putting together his own breakfast sandwich from what was available. Rebecca was making some, as well, two plates at the ready.  
  
"Yeah. Desmond was a little frightened by his face," she said, eyes bright and smile wide. "And of course why he's in this place, where are the others, where is his mother; all the questions we expected. He's only just calmed down. You wanna bring 'em breakfast?," she asked, holding out a plate with the breakfast sandwiches she'd made.  
  
Shaun had to admit he was curious, so he nodded and poured a cup of coffee for Bill and a glass of milk for Desmond. It was tricky to balance all that, but even as he approached Bill's quarters, he could hear the man's voice, talking in a low, soothing tone. He cleared his throat when he approached, but stopped short of the doorway. "Ah, I've got breakfast," he called, and it was quiet for a moment before Bill told him to come in. He entered a bit slowly, just in case. Desmond was on the far side of the room, Bill's futon between him and his father. He had an unsure, if defiant, expression, but he was staring at Shaun with undisguised curiosity.  
  
"Desmond, this is Shaun. I told you about him, he's a friend," Bill said, directing Shaun to place the plates on his desk. Shaun cleared a space, keeping his movements slow. He could feel Desmond's eyes on him, and turned when he finished, meeting the gaze head-on. Desmond didn't seem to be embarassed about being caught.  
  
" _Are_ we friends?," he asked, cocking his head.  
  
"Yes," Bill said, at the same time that Shaun answered, "Sort of, yeah."  
  
Desmond looked dubious and Bill sent him a glare. Shaun held up his hands. "I'm a prickly sort of person - I'm not sure that you even like me. But truth be told, we haven't really known each other long," he said with a smile. He kept his tone light and amused; though the uncertainty behind the words was true, he didn't want to make Desmond feel bad. Shaun generally held that honesty was the best policy, and saw no reason to break from that pattern here. Bill clearly didn't agree, since he added a frown to his glare - which wasn't an expression Shaun was unfamiliar with, really.  
  
But Desmond nodded thoughtfully, and it was strange to see that sort of expression on that young a face. Shaun wondered for a moment if Desmond had always been that deliberate. He'd seen hints of it, beneath the casual sarcasm and light jokes, but since they hadn't actually had any _real_ conversations, Shaun couldn't ever be sure. Of course, that was entirely Shaun's doing in the first place, but he'd spent too much time avoiding his issues to start thinking about them now. "Alright. Thanks," Desmond said, and moved to take one of the plates and the milk before he sat on the bed and began eating.  
  
Bill looked surprised by this, and Shaun shrugged. "Ah, anyways, after breakfast, can we chat a moment, Bill?," he asked. "Just outside," he added, so Desmond wouldn't worry.  
  
Bill nodded. "Yes. Of course," he said, moving to the desk as if on autopilot, his mind clearly elsewhere. Shaun left them to it; he had his own breakfast to eat, after all.

========

Shaun lingered in the main hall after his breakfast - he knew Bill could find him here. He fiddled on his laptop for a bit, mostly writing useless database entries that no one was going to read. He wasn't sure why he did it, but writing his opinions about historical facts soothed him in a way. Desmond sometimes even mentioned particular entries he'd found funny, but Shaun felt it was kind of pathetic that he derived such pleasure in simple compliments like that. But Desmond wasn't ever in the animus now, so Shaun was really the only one getting anything out of the exercise. Still, it made him feel better to put down this knowledge he had, to put his own spin on historical facts (and what passed for historical facts) - and occasionally, he'd even made connections that had led to some interesting leads in his personal research. He'd actually lost track of the time, but it couldn't have been more than an hour before Bill asked to meet him in the main hall.  
  
Desmond was there, too, looking around at the temple, wide-eyed and all but vibrating with energy. Bill just looked resigned. "We're going outside," he said, by way of greeting, and Shaun shrugged and led the way.  
  
"Dad says you're a historian," Desmond told him, and Shaun glanced back to Bill only to get a shrug in return. Of course. _Just_ a historian.  
  
"That's one of my many skills, yes," he finally answered. "A sort of hobby, but it's been useful more than you might think," he said, and maybe he was a little smug about it but that didn't mean Desmond had to scrunch his face up like that.  
  
" _How?_ ," he asked, with all the incredulity a child could muster. "It's so _boring!"_  
  
Shaun sighed a little more emphatically than was strictly necessary. "I can see why you'd think that, but there are some very important moments in history that everyone should know. Important figures to admire, and incredible advancements made. Moments of true heroism and grand acts of nobility and all that. Terrible tragedies that we should strive to never repeat. But the truth is," he said, lowering his voice like it was a great secret, "humans are irrational and silly, and history is full of examples."  
  
Desmond looked dubious. "Really?," he asked, brows raised and lips pursed.  
  
"Really! Mmm, let me see. Oh, here's one. Did you know there was once a ruler who was so angry that the ocean destroyed two bridges he'd tried to build that he ordered his men to lash it with whips, and to strike the water with hot irons while yelling at it?," he asked, and Desmond was smiling a little, eyes wide as he shook his head. "Oh, he did. But he attempted to build them a second time, and it worked, so maybe he had the right idea, yeah?," he asked, and Desmond actually laughed at that. "What kind of bridges do you think he built?," he asked, and Desmond appeared to give it some thought.  
  
"A wooden bridge?," he asked, finally.  
  
"Well, you're technically not wrong. He built two bridges using boats lashed together longways, and then made a road atop them with planks and dirt. It was all for his army and their attendants - because of course you only ever get mad enough to lash at the ocean if you're already on your way to war - and it took an entire week for them all to cross on the boats. Then they went and fought and came back, and were the bridges there?," he asked Desmond, but Desmond shook his head.  
  
"Correct. They'd been destroyed by yet another storm. But the king was not in that group, so the sea escaped another punishment despite being so very naughty," he concluded, and Desmond laughed again.  
  
They were at the mouth of the cave now, and there was a woman waiting for them. Bill waved at her, and jogged up to talk to her for a moment, and Shaun figured he'd have to distract Desmond a little longer. He recounted another of his favorite tidbits, and was more than a little surprised at the fact that Desmond was actually a great audience. Then Bill returned and told Desmond to follow the woman, Sarah, and that she'd let him run around and explore a bit outside. Desmond gave a happy cry before running to her side without hesitation. When they were out of sight, Bill turned to Shaun with a look of disbelief.  
  
"What?," he asked, frowning. He felt a little defensive, and Bill hadn't even said anything yet.  
  
"Shaun, are you actually good with children?," he asked, and Shaun scoffed.  
  
"Of course not!," he said. "Just a little distraction. Five minutes, I'm amusing and he thinks it's great. Give him half an hour, he'll be sick to death of me," he said with a shrug. "Story of my life, really," he added, because he just _knew_ Bill was thinking it, and he had to beat him to the punch.  
  
Bill laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, speaking of, we need to figure this out. We have no idea how long this is going to last. He only remembers what he knew when he was a child. On the one hand, it's a shame. He was shaping up to be one of our best field agents," he said. "But on the other...he's my son again. Sort of. He's still weirded out by how old I suddenly am. But he trusts me, right now. I'd forgotten what that feels like," he murmured.  
  
Shaun swallowed and looked away. "Right. So, ah, you're saying we should take turns with him? Shifts? Rotate him around, keep him busy? It's doable, but he'll catch on, I think."  
  
Bill cleared his throat. "Yes. Rebecca's already working up some activities she thinks she could engage him in. I'll take care of the physical activities," and he held up a hand because he could already see the protest Shaun wanted to make. "Not like that, Shaun. I'll make it fun. Exploring. Just...let him run and play, but with purpose. If he resents it too much, I'll take a different tactic," he added, and Shaun nodded. "But you'll have to find something to do with him. If you can entertain him somehow, that'll be fine, I think. Maybe play games? We'll all be 'on-call' though, if the field teams need us, so make sure to have something he can do without your direct supervision, that kind of thing."  
  
Shaun felt lost for a moment. "Bill, when I said _we_ , I wasn't including myself. Did you forget how busy I am? Or not hear the part where people get tired of me within thirty minutes?," he asked. "I can probably manage a little bit, Bill, but I don't think-"  
  
"Shaun, this isn't a negotiation, this is what has to happen. So figure something out, I know you can. In fact, you've got a spare laptop, don't you? Just put some games on there," he said, dismissively, and that was so incredibly infuriating that Shaun was silent for a moment. He just couldn't figure out _which_ angry retort to use first.  
  
But Bill took his silence as assent, or maybe he didn't care, because he walked over to someone else to have a conversation with them in hushed tones. A _diversion_. Like either that was all Shaun could offer, or all Desmond deserved? It's true that he was a busy man, and Shaun knew he could adjust his schedule however needed, but Bill's immediate assumptions, his - his _ordering_ Shaun like this was any part of his duties, his dismissal of Shaun's time and his abilities... Well, it rankled.  
  
But even more than that, Shaun realized he _wanted_ Desmond to like him, even though he was just a kid right now, even though he probably wouldn't remember this at all when he returned to normal. _If_ he returned to normal.  
  
Still. It was probably best to load up a few games anyways. Just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

It was amazing, really, how quickly children could adjust. Shaun knew it objectively, but seeing it was another thing entirely. Desmond had been a little cautious at first, but now he was as comfortable with all of them as could be. The situation wasn't as bad as Shaun had expected, for a few reasons. First, he wasn't in charge of Desmond as often as he'd feared. Desmond spent time not only with Rebecca and Bill, but also topside, with the campers. He slept down here, though, in his father's room.  
  
Second, Desmond himself was a much better audience than Shaun could ever have predicted. Sometimes he did play games, mostly when Shaun had urgent work he could not put off, but usually, they talked. They'd made a sort of game of it; Shaun would let Desmond pick any historical figure or period, and then Shaun would give him a short lesson on it, sort of. Mostly, Shaun just talked about his favorite parts, and contrary to his expectations, Desmond listened with rapt attention. He also apparently thought Shaun was hilarious, which was strangely gratifying. And he _did_ pay attention, because he'd ask questions and sometimes would use Shaun's spare laptop to look up things on his own. If he was fact-checking, Shaun wasn't offended; he liked the idea that Desmond shared even a little bit of his enthusiasm or appreciation for history.  
  
Sometimes, Desmond talked about what he'd done with the others. Rebecca let him play with extra components, let him take them apart and then taught him how things put together, and she also told him of a few neat tricks in the games Shaun had installed for Desmond on his laptop. Sometimes he'd come over straight from Rebecca, and would want to try whatever trick she'd mentioned. Rebecca did that whenever she needed to get work of her own done without distractions, but Shaun didn't mind since Desmond was quiet when he was playing his games.  
  
Bill apparently let him run around certain areas of the temple. It seemed he'd created obstacle courses for Desmond that the kid took to with gusto - far more than he'd ever had when he'd really been this age, or so Bill told him. As for Bill himself, he appeared years younger, smiling much more often, and Shaun couldn't help but wonder just how things had gotten so bad between them. He'd thought sometimes that being the mentor must be hard when one also had to be a father, and maybe Bill had just never gotten the trick of it. Until now, apparently, because Desmond showed none of the impatience, none of the frustration he held with his father as an adult.  
  
Then there were the times Desmond went outside the cave. He seemed to enjoy those the best; there were other kids for him to interact with, and it was apparently all play and no supervision. (Shaun had been assured there was supervision, just that the children didn't pay attention.) Nothing but chase or tag or hide and seek or whatever it was that kids did when they were active and accepted by their peers. No expectations, no drills, nothing but fun, or so Desmond's descriptions made it seem. He'd always come back freshly bathed, as it seemed he just got filthy every time. He also had more than a few scraped elbows and knees, but he was always all smiles when he walked back down with his father.  
  
Today, he made a beeline for Shaun when they'd returned. Shaun wasn't busy, so he didn't mind the interruption.  
  
"I'm the best tree-climber!," Desmond announced proudly, sticking his chest out, hands on hips.  
  
"Well, it couldn't have been a very big tree, then," Shaun replied without looking, but apparently an eight year old could read him better than his own adult counterpart because he just scoffed and dropped his posture instead of getting angry and calling him an asshole. It could be that his voice was a little less sharp than it would have been when Desmond was an adult, but surely that couldn't be the entire reason.  
  
"Shaaaaun!," Desmond whined, and Shaun turned to look at him properly.  
  
"Well, go on then. How big was it?," he asked, and Desmond launched into his tale of how they'd raced up the biggest tree they could find, and Desmond had won. He'd climbed the fastest, and he'd gotten higher than any other kid! He was just so damn proud of himself that Shaun couldn't help smiling, too.  
  
"Well, then! I suppose I stand corrected," he said, and Desmond beamed so widely at that, like Shaun's approval was something he actually wanted. But he raced off to brag to Rebecca next, and she ruffled his hair and punched his arm, and Desmond seemed just as proud and happy with her approval as well, so maybe he was just thinking too much about things. He returned to his research, but the smile remained.

========

It took a little while, but Shaun realized that he didn't think of Desmond's visits as intrusions or burdens, and he felt a little ashamed when he remembered that there was a time he'd expected to. And aside from the fact that Desmond hadn't changed back, things were going really well. Abstergo was still in the throes of their internal war of succession, the Assassins were collecting small victories all over the world, and Shaun had plenty of time for his own research when he wasn't working or spending time with Desmond. It was no longer just 'distracting' Desmond, either, and it was weird how naturally that transition had taken place.  
  
He was up for the next supply run, and Desmond actually begged to be allowed to go with him, and it was both flattering and a little weird, because the adult Desmond had never been _that_ excited to spend time with him. But Bill agreed, and so Desmond was in the van with him, all but bouncing with excitement as he buckled himself in, and Shaun had to laugh. "You know, I can't help but think you're going to be incredibly disappointed by this trip," he said. "All we're doing is picking up some necessities," but Desmond shrugged.  
  
"I've never been to a city before," he said. Shaun felt a little sad, and thought maybe he knew why Bill had agreed to this.  
  
"Fair enough," he said. "But we're not exactly going to a _city_ , per se," he added as he turned the van on, but Desmond's enthusiasm wasn't diminished in the least. On the trip they just talked; it wasn't even a particularly long drive, so Desmond shared some things he'd looked up, and Shaun was actually impressed by how much research he'd done on his own. Desmond even mentioned some things that Shaun hadn't actually known the details of offhand, and he looked so very proud when Shaun admitted to it. Shaun would definitely be looking up those details later; after all, he'd encouraged Desmond to double-check him, so turnabout was fair play.  
  
Desmond was absolutely overwhelmed by Walmart; he stuck close to Shaun, eyes wide as he took in everything - all the people, first, and then the items that surrounded them. Shaun loaded up the cart with cans of food, and toilet paper and paper towels and trash bags and all the boring stuff he'd warned Desmond about, but Desmond didn't utter a single complaint. "There's a lot of people, huh?," he asked, and Desmond just nodded. Once or twice, he caught Desmond looking at the labels of some of the things he bought, but Desmond didn't volunteer the reason and Shaun didn't ask.  
  
He definitely couldn't do the self-checkout this time, but as before, there were no complaints as they waited in line. There was no demanding of the candy or toys placed deliberately in the checkout aisle to catch impatient eyes, not one thing he'd expect from a 'normal' child - and again Shaun felt a strange, confusing pang of sympathy. Once the cashier finally started checking their items, Desmond watched the whole process intently, as quiet as he'd been since they entered the store. When they were back in the van, Shaun glanced over at Desmond. "You know what, let's make this trip special, huh? Let's get you some Mcdonald's," he said, and Desmond's eyes got wide again and he nodded. Shaun knew that at this point, he'd probably never had such a complete waste of a meal, and Desmond looked absolutely over the _moon_ at the opportunity. Possibly he didn't even know what Mcdonald's was, which made his excitement even more pitiable, somehow.  
  
They didn't have anything that would spoil, and despite himself, Shaun wanted to make it truly 'special', so he pulled in and they actually went inside. Shaun ordered his own meal, and a happy meal with juice for Desmond, then watched him explore the playground as he waited for their order; and it surprised him how normal this felt. It was kind of nice, really, and maybe if Desmond never did change back... Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Desmond came when Shaun called him, only slightly out of breath. "Now, Desmond, we can't tell your father about this," he said. "He'll _kill_ me. So you've gotta keep this a secret. Don't ask for Mcdonald's when we're at the temple, and I'll see if I can't take you on my next run, eh?," he asked and Desmond nodded eagerly.  
  
"I won't tell, I promise!," he whispered fiercely, mouth still full of fries, and Shaun couldn't help but smile at his sincerity.  
  
Later, over dinner, Desmond looked down at his plate (Rebecca had made burgers), then up to Shaun and grinned. Hardly subtle, but Shaun smiled back anyways, and at Bill's questioning look, just shrugged. It was a secret, after all.

========

It had been two weeks, and Desmond was still a child. Bill had declared the room that held the machine responsible for his transformation to be off-limits for now, and a warning barrier had been put up in the doorway to prevent further incidents. They didn't even want to start investigating the hows of it until they knew if this was temporary or permanent. Desmond hadn't shown any problems; they'd had one of their doctors come to look at him and take a few samples, but he was precisely as he appeared - a happy, healthy child.  
  
He was outside today, probably winning at some other game that energetic children played, and Shaun was drafting e-mails to keep the heads all updated on their field teams. It was quiet - Rebecca was in another part of the temple, and he could hear her chattering with other techs on his headset about another old machine that had been located recently. They were treating them all with a bit more caution thanks to this incident, but honestly, Shaun thought that should have been the proper procedure from the get-go, considering what they'd seen Desmond do with the Apple. He spent a good hour just working when Bill appeared in his doorway.  
  
"Shaun, got a moment?," he asked, and with _that_ tone, of course Shaun did. He shifted to face the man, even took his hands off the keyboard to show he was paying attention. "I'm thinking we need to start taking this more seriously. That it might be...permanent," he said, and Shaun tensed.  
  
"Really? I...I can see that, yeah," he said, but it kind of shook him, because he'd known of the possibility, of _course_ he had, but to hear someone else say it made it much more real than his own imaginings could make it.  
  
"If it is, we need to start seeing about his education. Starting his training again," Bill said, and he looked pained at the idea, but also resolute.  
  
Shaun just nodded. "Of course. Not quick as the animus, but he's definitely proven that he can be an excellent field agent," he said, mind already far in the future, when Desmond was the age he had been when he'd touched the machine. He'd probably be even _better_ , because he'd have his own real training, and years of experience in the field by then. The thought was both exciting and a little sad. That was what, seventeen years? _Christ_.  
  
"Yes, well, I was hoping you'd take the role of his teacher," Bill said, and Shaun nodded absently for a half-second before his brain actually processed what Bill had said.  
  
"Wait, what?!" He definitely couldn't do that, surely Bill realized how busy he was?  
  
"See, he listens to you in a way he never had with his other teachers," Bill explained, and Shaun was already shaking his head, but Bill continued. "He listens, and I know, because he'll come to me at night and tell me what he'd learned for the day. You've got him looking up stuff on his own, even. You make it fun for him, so I was thinking that you could-"  
  
"Bill, I _can't_ ," he said, because he had to head this off before Bill finished. "You know how much I've got on my plate, you _know_ how busy I am, can't you bring in someone?," he asked, but it was Bill who shook his head.  
  
"Shaun," he said, and he looked away and seemed so old again for a moment. Pity wasn't something Shaun felt often, and _never_ before for the man before him, but he definitely felt it now. "Shaun, I have another chance here. I failed the first time, I - I went wrong somewhere along the way. But this is another chance. I can't promise him a happy life, or even a happy second childhood, but I can certainly make it the best that I can. Shaun, for whatever reason, he _likes_ you, he listens to you, and you make him want to learn. You're the best choice for this. I'll have the lesson plans prepared by others, but...," he sighed deeply. "I'm not ordering you to do this. I'm asking you, not as the Mentor, but as a father. I'll lessen your duties," he said and Shaun made a noise of protest despite himself.  
  
"Bill!," he barked, but gentled his tone immediately. "Bill, I _like_ my duties. I like my job here, what I do. I don't," he began, but stopped short. "Look, are you certain we need to do this now? Maybe give it a little more time. A month or maybe two. This is working for now, and it's not like he's not enjoying himself, right? Whatever it is, we've got time, so let's take it."  
  
Bill looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, alright. A little more time," he agreed, and maybe it was Shaun's imagination, but he seemed to relax again. He left after another moment, and Shaun sighed and tried to turn his mind back to his work. It was more difficult than it should have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine all talks with William are awkward talks.


	4. Chapter 4

In all honesty, Shaun had expected to fuck things up long before he actually did. He knew it was coming, because it was _him_ , of course he was going to muck things up somehow, but he was surprised at how long it took. A little over a month before his first big misstep, and maybe he'd just gotten too comfortable with everything; there had been no major emergencies due to Abstergo's own problems, and Desmond himself wasn't a child prone to dramatics. Also, he seemed to really like Shaun, which was _still_ a bit weird to him - but apparently not weird enough, because he'd clearly been taking that for granted.  
  
Shaun realized he hadn't been keeping up with their intel on the Templars as carefully as he should have been when just after breakfast when he got the notice that two teams had gone dark. After that, he was buried in orders and research and covering their tracks, and completely forgot that today was a Desmond day, as he'd been calling them. Desmond generally only visited him in the afternoons to evenings on these days, but Shaun had been too busy to even eat lunch much less pay attention to the passage of time.   
  
Abstergo had finally settled their little succession problem, and the new Grand Master was wasting no time in cleaning up their most recent messes. One of the teams had checked in after Shaun got involved, but the other had not. He had to mobilize the other teams, arrange cleanup and transport for a few whose position had been compromised enough to warrant relocation. Bill was upset, and currently Shaun was the target of his ire, and while it wasn't wholly undeserved, Shaun knew he hadn't earned the full force of Bill's temper. He was just convenient. But the knowledge didn't actually calm him down - if anything, it just made him _angrier_ , and of course, that was a terrible state to be in when Desmond wandered in, earlier than usual.  
  
The worst part was, Shaun had actually prepared for this visit. He'd done some research on the things Desmond had shared on their field trip, and had some followups he'd even written down so he wouldn't forget. But he wasn't thinking of that now, he was worried and angry and distracted, and Desmond took one look at him and headed for his laptop. Shaun didn't even spare the time to be grateful about that, either. He was texting and e-mailing and researching safehouses and escape routes - things he should have already had on hand, and he was furious at himself for his lapse.  
  
Desmond played quietly for an hour or so, and Shaun almost forgot he was there at all. He cursed under his breath occasionally, and Desmond didn't say a word. He even cursed Bill, _not_ under his breath, and still Desmond didn't say a word. He cursed himself, too, but only inside his own head, so of course Desmond didn't say anything to that, either.  
  
Shaun wasn't even really aware that he was hungry, not consciously. He was only aware of it when Desmond mentioned it. He shut down his laptop and came close and waited for a moment by Shaun's desk. "Do you want something to eat?," he asked, and Shaun shook his head.   
  
"No," he murmured, and it was clipped and short, but he was _busy_. "Thank you," he added, after a moment, because it didn't cost him anything to be polite, at least - and of course Desmond had no idea what was happening, didn't deserve Shaun's abrasiveness.  
  
Desmond wandered off for a moment, but came back in and sat down at his desk again. He was occupied by something, but Shaun didn't have time to figure out what. "Can I help?," he asked, after a while.  
  
It took a few minutes before Shaun realized it was directed at _him_ , and he shook his head. "No," he said, frowning, because it wasn't Desmond's job to worry. "Look, um, maybe you should go hang out with Rebecca today," he said, but he didn't look up from his phone, texting as he was with a team leader who needed Shaun to find them a safe way out of their current location.  
  
Desmond didn't leave, but he was quiet again, and Shaun supposed that was good enough. He'd finally negotiated the one team to a safe location, and was still working on the other. Desmond was at his desk, he was being quiet, but it felt like he was hovering, and Shaun sighed. "Desmond, could you not? I need to focus on this," he said, and Desmond frowned a little from where he'd been sitting at his desk.  
  
"I'm being quiet," he said, but Shaun held up a hand.  
  
"It's not about quiet, Desmond, I can't focus if you're around. Look, I don't have time for you right now, so _please_ go bother Rebecca or something," he growled, and the instant the words left his mouth, that _very instant_ , he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Desmond flinched and a hurt look flashed over his face for only a second before it was gone, and he balled his fists and nodded once, sharply. Shaun could see right through the front, but before he could say anything, Desmond sprang up from his chair and all but ran from the room.  
  
Shaun wanted to go after him, he _did_ , but there were lives that depended on him, and he swore he'd apologize later. These people deserved his full attention, and he told himself it was better to hurt a child's feelings than to let good men and women die because he was distracted. He knew it was true, but that really didn't make him feel better at all.

========

Shaun knew he was an asshole. Generally, he was at peace with the fact, because he was productive and he was _good_ at what he did, and his personality never conflicted with his work - in many cases, it actually helped him. But he never had to deal too much with children, so it had never mattered like this before. Desmond hadn't deserved what he'd said, nor the way he'd said it. He was no better than Bill, directing his temper at a convenient target - only in this case, he was worse, because his had been wholly undeserving of any of it.  
  
So when the crisis was solved, a little over an hour and a half later with not a single agent lost, he didn't waste any time before looking for Desmond. Rebecca glared at him but she _knew_ him and knew what he'd been dealing with, so she at least told him Desmond had ended up running outside the temple. He'd rather not involve Bill, so he made the climb outside and asked around. Finally, someone pointed him in the direction of a tree, said Desmond often went up there to think; if he couldn't be found anywhere else, he was likely up there.   
  
It was a big tree, the biggest around as far as Shaun could see, and he realized this was the one Desmond had told him about. He was now definitely impressed. It took him a moment, but he saw one of Desmond's legs hanging off a branch and so he sighed loudly, hoping Desmond could hear him.  
  
"Desmond? You up there? Because I'd like to apologize, and I'd like to do it properly, face to face," he called, but the only response was Desmond pulling his leg up so no part of him could be seen anymore. "I mean it. These are words you won't hear often from me, and I should really deliver them to you directly!," he added, but there was no movement from the tree. "Please don't make me come up there; I'm wearing _loafers!,_ " he said after a few moments of silence. He'd hoped it would get _some_ reaction, but no.  
  
Shaun sighed again. "Alright, I'm coming up. At least don't climb any higher, yeah?" Not that he was in a position to ask Desmond any favors, but still, he'd make the effort. He probably looked ridiculous, grunting and working his way slowly up the big tree with more caution than was probably necessary. It must have taken him half an hour to climb where Desmond was - despite having no real reason to comply, Desmond hadn't climbed any higher at all. He wasn't looking at Shaun, and Shaun took a moment to settle himself, sitting on a lower branch a little awkwardly, but it would do.  
  
"Hey," he said, the gentlest he knew how, and Desmond flicked his eyes at him and then away again, chin set stubbornly. His eyes and nose were still red, his cheeks showed smears where tears had tracked their way through the dirt on his cheeks and been wiped away. Shaun hadn't even known he _could_ feel worse, but, there it was. "Alright, Desmond, look. I'm sorry. Alright? I'm _sorry_. I don't know how much you know about what we do, but...but some people were in trouble, and I... I'd let them down, Desmond. They look to me to keep them safe, and I hadn't. I wasn't ready when I should have been, and...," he sighed. "It's complicated, but _none_ of that excuses what I said. You know you're not a bother to me, right? That wasn't what I meant, not at all."  
  
Desmond huffed a little, like he wasn't ready to stop being upset, and Shaun nodded as if he'd actually said something.  
  
"I was actually, ah, looking forward to hanging out with you today. I was impressed by some of the things you'd researched and wanted to talk about it. Even made some notes, so I wouldn't forget," he added, and Desmond smiled for just a second before forcing the expression away. "But your father...ah, no, I mean, it's not his fault. I just... I was angry, at him and at myself, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I am sorry, Desmond. I came to find you the earliest moment I could, the minute I knew they were safe. I wanted to come sooner, but I couldn't. I can't be sorry about that, because I saved them," and he added that because he'd always been honest with Desmond, and wanted him to know what was at stake.  
  
Desmond looked at him a moment, and it was weird to have any kid - but particularly _this_ kid - stare at him with such scrutiny. But he must have passed muster, because Desmond relaxed. "You mean it?," he asked, and Shaun nodded.  
  
"Every word. I'm not...you know, Desmond, I'm not actually good with people, and I often say things I don't even mean. You caught on to that pretty quickly," he murmured, and he had no idea where he was going with this. He rarely apologized for anything, but this was important enough to  _try._ "But this was different. You're not a bother. I enjoy your visits, and I'm very sorry I hurt you."  
  
Desmond finally gave him a smile, a little wary, but it was something. "Still think the tree is small?," he asked after a moment, and Shaun laughed.   
  
"Oh, no, I stand very much corrected, this is a very big tree. You can climb even higher, can't you?," he asked, and Desmond nodded. "Well, thanks for not doing that. I can't believe I even made it up _here_ ," he said, risking a glance down below. "I haven't eaten, and I bet you haven't either, so let's get down from here and get some food, yeah?."  
  
"Alright," Desmond said, hopping down from the branch and making his way down the tree, absolutely fearless and natural and Shaun was a little envious. Well, _more_ than a little, truth be told.  
  
"Look, can you help me? Tell me where to put my feet, I'm not part monkey like you," he said, and with Desmond's help, he made it out of the tree in one piece. When he finally dropped to the ground, he realized he was dirty and his sweater was torn, but Desmond smiled at him and those things just didn't matter in the face of the forgiveness he'd apparently earned.   
  
"Thank you, Desmond," he said. It was more for the forgiveness than the help in the tree, but if Desmond understood, he gave no indication; he only beamed at Shaun before leading the way back into the cave.


	5. Chapter 5

For all that Desmond was the one who'd cried, Shaun felt he was the one more shaken by the whole experience. He'd hurt Desmond and he'd felt _awful_ about it. It wasn't that he'd never made anyone cry before, because he had - just never maliciously. Rarely maliciously, anyways. It was really that he'd never made anyone cry who seemed to actually look up to him. Well, truth be told, he'd never had anyone who seemed to look up to him at all before, full stop.  
  
But Desmond had given his forgiveness immediately and unreservedly, and seemed completely over the whole thing. There was no awkwardness, no lingering hesitation - at least, not on Desmond's part. Shaun would catch himself thinking about it out of nowhere, and then he'd just sort of cringe and hate himself for a little while. Sometimes, he'd even forget that Desmond had been an adult only very recently, and those moments scared him, too. Because this wasn't bad, and it felt like just accepting it or getting used to it was a betrayal of sorts - though to whom, he couldn't quite figure out.  
  
So things settled, and the minutes and hours and days coalesced into patterns and further, into routines. It was hard to feel like Desmond wasn't around all the time, because even when he was topside, he was the subject of conversation _all the time_. Whenever anyone needed to talk to Shaun longer than two minutes, Desmond came up and Shaun honestly had no idea why. Rebecca and Bill, yeah, he expected it of them, but it was nearly _everyone_ , and it was starting to drive him mad!  
  
"Rebecca, why is it that everyone feels the need to update me on the minutiae of Desmond's life?," he asked her over breakfast one morning.  
  
Rebecca only laughed as she buttered her toast. "Because Desmond talks about you," she said. "More than his own father, even. They think you're like, his guardian or something."  
  
"Pff, that's ridiculous," he scoffed, because it was, on all counts.  
  
"It's true! I overheard him one day telling his friends outside that you knew everything. Literally everything. He sounded quite certain, though they weren't convinced," she offered, grinning so wide Shaun thought her face might actually crack.  
  
"Ridiculous," he repeated, but it _was_ kind of flattering in a weird way. "But really, why do they think I care if he skinned his knee? Or that he fell down a hill, _again?_ Why are they telling me? I'm going to see him, I'd definitely notice, and even if I didn't, he'd tell me himself!" He was picking at his own breakfast, more interested in answers than food.  
  
"Shaun, I'm serious. I mean, _I_ get sick of hearing your name so much and I _like_ you! Maybe they infer that you care because Desmond seems to think so," she offered, brows raised, and Shaun just huffed again.  
  
"Well, I mean, I _do_ care. I, I sort of care. A little, you know. But this is going to drive me mad! I see him literally every day, and I spend a great deal of time with him. I expected the novelty to wear off by now," he murmured.  
  
"Oh my god, Shaun, are you even listening?," she asked. "Every day, it's 'Do you know what Shaun said?' or 'Becca, guess what Shaun showed me!' The kid likes you, though god knows why," she said.  
  
"Please. All _I_ hear about are tree races, river races, racing races - lots of racing, these kids... or about you. And your godawful music, by the way. Did you _have_ to expose him to that?," he groused.  
  
Rebecca just laughed and faked throwing a piece of her toast at him. "Oh yeah, he loves it, too. I made sure to show him your favorites, by the way," she added, like she'd actually done something good.  
  
"Yeah, I noticed. Joke's on you, I got him headphones," he said. "Now he can listen to that noise you like and I can pretend maybe he's listening to something that actually _is_ music."  
  
She sighed. "Ah, damn," she murmured. "Maybe I'll show him how to hack your files, maybe replace some of your songs... I am running out of spare parts I can keep him distracted with," she said, and Shaun growled.  
  
"You do that, Rebecca, and I'll make sure all your tools are replaced with those pink sets they make for _girls_ ," he spat, and she stood up, eyes blazing with the challenge.  
  
"Oh, you wanna do threats, Hastings?," she asked. "Maybe I'll accidentally mix up our clothes when they go out for wash, and we'll see who gets tired of pink first!"  
  
Shaun laughed at that, shaking his head. "Just leave my music alone and we won't have to see how this escalates," he said, though they both knew she'd won this round. Not that he couldn't come up with _something_ , just that he couldn't this early in the morning. "Oh, and speaking of your spare parts, thanks for showing him how to build robots that fall apart when he makes them fight. Now _I_ can play with your spare parts too, because he keeps losing them in my office and I keep stepping on them. And all your fancy tricks in his games? He just _has_  to show them off when he's in my office. 'Shaun, look at what Becca showed me!' 'Shaun, watch this!' You are just the coolest person he knows," he said, and he stopped short. "Isn't that weird?," he asked.  
  
"Gee, thanks, Shaun," she snorted.  
  
"No, no, I mean, he likes you, and apparently he likes me, and that's....I dunno. It's like we're role models or something. It's a scary thought," he murmured, and Rebecca laughed.  
  
"Hey, I'm the cool one, remember? But still, you ever...you ever think this might be it? Like, he's gonna stay like this, grow up again?," she asked quietly.  
  
"Sometimes," he admitted. "I try not to think about it too much, really. Whatever happens will happen, and eventually Bill will make a real decision regarding his future."  
  
"Gosh, that's... hmm. It's kind of sad. I'm gonna miss him. I mean, I already do, in a way. But he's not that different, you know? I mean, his memories aren't there, but then he does _something_... and it's just the same," she said, and Shaun cocked his head, because his experience had almost been the opposite.  
  
"What do you mean?," he asked.  
  
"Like...the animus. It's _right there,_ but he's never asked about it. He's asked about everything else I work on, but not Baby. He'll look at her, and then let his eyes slide away. He looks... uncomfortable, and he doesn't have the memories to know why," she said. "That's what he'd do when he was back from missions. He'd look at the animus, and sometimes, I could tell he was thinking maybe he wanted to get in again, but he'd always just sort of wince and look away. He never said anything, but...," she shrugged. "Oh, and he never, _ever_ goes near the back of the temple, where the pedestal is. Have you noticed that?"  
  
Shaun nodded. "Actually, I had noticed that. He doesn't even look in that direction, usually. There's a sort of invisible line I've never seen him cross," he murmured, then frowned as he remembered something else. "And Bill told me once that he knows his way around the temple. He set up a sort of course up those stairs to the left, where Desmond used to hang out the most, before, and Desmond knew it immediately," he said. "But he definitely didn't remember us or anything. I wonder what else might still be there..."  
  
"Well, he still follows you around like a puppy!," Rebecca added and Shaun growled and actually _did_ throw a bit of toast at her, though he missed. On purpose, he would claim, if asked.  
  
"Oh, he never did that, shut up," he said, but Rebecca just looked at him strangely before shrugging and finishing her breakfast. Honestly, it must be the mission of everyone he worked with to drive him mad. That was the only explanation.

========

For his part, Bill seemed torn between enjoying what time he could with a son that had yet to grow stubborn and defiant and angry, and the fact that they were down one of their most promising field agents just when Abstergo started to go on the offensive again. He wanted this fixed, and the only times he wasn't pestering Shaun about solving the problem (despite the fact that Shaun had literally nothing to do with the artifacts _at all_ ), he wanted to talk _about_ Desmond. Most of these conversations were very uncomfortable.  
  
"You know, Shaun," he said, lingering in Shaun's office, "Desmond still talks about you, constantly. 'Shaun said this' and 'Shaun told me that'. I'm both surprised and annoyed that he hasn't gotten tired of you like we predicted." Shaun huffed at that, offended even though he'd been the one to say it first, and that Bill might actually be the only person worse than he was regarding tact.  
  
"Well thanks, Bill. I'm sorry my abrasive personality hasn't rubbed him the wrong way yet. I'll try harder, shall I?," he asked, much more mildly than he'd thought he'd manage. Part of him wanted to add that perhaps he should ask Bill for tips on how to alienate Desmond since he'd done such a bang-up job of it, but that was a really low blow and Shaun had already met his asshole quota for the day. The other part of him just hated the fact that Bill was right - even Shaun had no idea why Desmond wasn't clawing at the walls to get away from him. Unlike before, _this_ Desmond always took Shaun's thoughtless sarcasm in stride, and almost never took any of it personally. "Probably the accent. It's a big hit with you Americans, I've found," he added, with a shrug.  
  
But Bill frowned, shaking his head. _Of course_ he'd take the comment seriously. "No, it's not that. I'm not sure what it is. He _likes_ you, and I don't know why. I just can't figure it out. He's still studying, you know - he's become a little impatient with the courses, but will read for hours based on a stray comment from you. How do you do it?," he asked, and Shaun only laughed because surely with that setup, the real joke would follow. But there was no punchline, and when he looked up at Bill, he realized the man was _completely_ serious. His smile fell.  
  
"I...I don't do anything. We just talk about things, that's all. Sometimes we play games, but I don't often have the time," he said, and he felt his face crease as he frowned, thinking. Desmond was an attentive audience most of the time, but nothing unusual, or so Shaun figured. And half the time, Desmond talked about stuff that happened topside, or about Rebecca. He didn't actually talk about his father much, and Shaun didn't ask. "I don't really see it, Bill; I'm not _doing_ anything," he said, shrugging again.  
  
Bill shook his head, as if he couldn't believe it. "Of course not," he said after a moment, his disappointment almost tangible.  
  
"Well, what do you want me to do about it, Bill? Do you _want_ me to alienate your son?," he demanded. "I'm just trying to... I don't know. We're trying to keep things normal for him, aren't we? As best we can? That's all I'm trying to do here. And, I've thought about what you asked me before, you know. But then you say things like that, and I can't help but think that you don't _really_ want me to teach him, do you? You _want_ him to be tired of me, is that right?" Shaun was suddenly furious, but took a deep breath because that tangent was weird and not something he actually wanted to think about, much less talk about. "Look, Bill, he's been this way for over a month now. Maybe we _should_ start to take it as permanent. But if we do, maybe you should...," he trailed off, because he was angry at Bill, and it wasn't like Bill was any good at listening to advice, not usually. Definitely not when Shaun was the one giving it, no matter the circumstance.  
  
"Maybe I should _what_ , Shaun?," Bill demanded.  
  
"Maybe you should take him home. Retire from the field, from...leading. Be a father this time, instead of a Mentor," Shaun said, as gentle as he could. But Bill only got angrier, as he'd predicted.  
  
"Like you're in a position to judge me, Hastings!," he snapped, and Shaun held up his hands. "You don't know the half of what I've done to-"  
  
"Bill! I'm not the enemy here. You have to admit, you're divided. Anyone can see you've devoted your life to the Assassins. The fact that we're still on the map is proof enough of that. But you said it yourself, this is a second chance, and maybe...maybe you should take it, that's all I'm saying," he said, keeping his voice slow and gentle, and it was working; Bill was listening. "And if you can't, maybe you should send him home without you. Because I know you want to remain the Mentor and I know you want to be a good father, but I can't see a way for you to do both. What we're doing now won't work forever, you _know_ this, and I can't do what you asked of me. His happiness and willingness to learn doesn't actually depend on me, but a lot of lives _do_. There's a choice here, but only you can actually make it. I don't envy you, I really don't, but this is how things are."  
  
Bill sighed, and looked so defeated, so _tired_ for a moment. "I know, Shaun. I know. I want to do the right thing, but there is no right thing. I can abandon my responsibilities, abandon everyone I swore to try and protect and a world that needs us, to raise a son who respects and loves me; or I can uphold my vows and alienate my son all over again."  
  
"It's not like that, Bill. It's not abandonment. You told me once the Assassins would never take more than I was willing to give. Why should you be any different? Retirement _is_ actually an option, and you know it. No one would hold this against you." Bill wasn't looking at him, had settled to leaning on Desmond's desk, and Shaun had a sudden revelation. "Bill...you don't even have to raise him as an Assassin. You know that, don't you?," he asked, and he knew, he _knew_ , with startling clarity that this was what really tormented the man. Desmond had hated what he'd been born into for _so long_ , and now Bill had a second chance and it didn't have to be that way at all.   
  
And the way Bill looked at him, so lost and tired, would stay with Shaun for a while. He'd not exactly _liked_ the man, but he respected his strength and determination. He respected that he never wavered and did what needed to be done. He made the hard decisions, and he made them look easy. He'd been seeing this for weeks now, and he only just now pinpointed what it was that made him uncomfortable; he was seeing Bill as just a man, rather than the Mentor. He'd actually forgotten that he _was_ 'just' human, and had burdens of his own, because Bill had worked exactly that hard to make it seem the opposite. He _knew_ Bill loved his son; knew he'd kept looking for him for the entire decade he'd been missing. But somehow he'd missed just what that kind of dedication meant.  
  
"I _know_ , Shaun," he said. "He hated it, all of it. And it doesn't have to be like that, does it?," he murmured. "I keep thinking, this time. _This time,_ he won't have to train. He won't hate me. He won't run away. And you know, sometimes... it felt like just one more thing I'd given up for the Assassins. But he came back, he saved the world, and we've seen his potential. He could be the best of us, Shaun. But hasn't he earned this? Maybe this wasn't a punishment, maybe it's a reward," he breathed, as if he barely dared hope it. "But I think of all the good he could do, all that still needs to be done. How can I choose to withhold that?"  
  
Shaun was quiet for a moment. "For he so loved the world that he gave his only son," he murmured, without any real humor, then sighed. "Bill, I think every parent faces something like this eventually; wonders if they're doing the best for their child. Not everyone gets a second chance, mind, but all anyone can do is give them the tools they need to make their own decisions. In the end, this is Desmond's decision more than yours, and I think you're forgetting that. You can hide the knowledge from him, but maybe he'll find us anyways. Maybe he won't. Perhaps you should just tell him only what is necessary, and let him decide. You asked me why he likes me, why he hasn't gotten tired of me, and maybe it's because I treat him exactly like I treat everyone else. I don't lie to him, even when the truth is uncomfortable. I don't even sugarcoat it. And he gets it, Bill. He _understands_. Sometimes, even when he was an adult, you tried to make decisions for him. You treat him like... like he was the same age as when he left, and he chafed at that, and you never understood why he was always so angry with you."  
  
"Oh, but you did?," Bill asked sharply, but held up his hand a second later, already shaking his head. "No, no. You're right. I can be...shortsighted when it comes to Desmond. I just... I get so _angry_ when I think of how selfish and wasteful all those years were. All that time, just _gone_. And angry because I know he ran away because of me. We're so different, he and I, we always were, but I always loved him. I suppose he just never saw that," he said softly. "Shaun, if I go, you'll have to take on my duties until another mentor can take my place - at least long enough for you to be trained fully," he said quietly. "I'd always intended you for the position someday," he added.  
  
Shaun could not be more shocked if Bill admitted that he was secretly a Templar all along. "You _what?_ ," he squeaked, because that was not where he'd seen this conversation going.  
  
Bill laughed, already more relaxed than he'd been seconds ago. "It's true. We don't often see eye to eye, but that's exactly why I kept you close. You've a good head on your shoulders, you're not afraid to contradict me or do what needs to be done, and you _care_ , even though you like people to think you don't. These are all good qualities for a mentor to have, and I won't be around forever."  
  
Shaun spluttered for a moment. "I don't.. Bill... I.." He couldn't wrap his head around it, because it made no goddamn sense! Except maybe it did, because despite being an organization whose members are mostly born into it, nepotism was very much absent. The brotherhood didn't tolerate incompetence, much less reward it - and it was no vanity for Shaun to say that he was exceedingly competent. It was how he'd gotten noticed in the first place. "I...well, you've decided, then?," he asked, instead.  
  
Bill nodded. "Yeah, I think I have. We'll remain here maybe another month or so, get you up to speed and tie up everything I can before we leave," he murmured. "I'll start things in motion now, though. You'll be a little busier for the next few weeks, but you'll still have Desmond some days, so don't think you're off that hook yet!"  
  
"Bill, I...don't know what to say. You know, I thought I'd mind having Desmond around, but... god, I think I'm actually going to _miss_  him," he said, laughing softly, but that was because he didn't want Bill to realize how true it was. He would miss Desmond. He knew better than to think they'd keep in contact. Bill would keep contact with the Assassins to a minimum, he expected, and it wasn't like Shaun actually had a reason to get updates on him or anything. Though sometimes it felt otherwise, he barely knew Desmond, adult _or_ child - and after less than a year, he'd have already not known him again longer than he had.   
  
It was a sad thought.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few weeks were a blur. Shaun had so many things to learn, new facts to absorb and new protocols to follow and new responsibilities to take on. Despite Bill's promise, Shaun did actually see less of Desmond, and he was surprised at how much he actually noticed the fact. He didn't often have time to ponder on that, but when he did, he found it sad that he easiest friendship he could remember having was with an eight-year-old while _he_ was an adult.   
  
Desmond didn't seem to mind too much - he was quiet, mostly, on the afternoons he spent with Shaun. He didn't even want to talk, just went straight to his laptop to put on his headphones and play his games. Shaun had expected this kind of thing the whole time, and was surprised at how much it stung, this strange sort of rejection, especially after the trust he'd regained after the whole tree apology thing. But it gave him time to do his work, to focus on the tasks and tests Bill set up for him, and start catching up on all the operations he'd have to start taking over. Part of him was ready for this, eager for the challenge, hungry for the chance to prove himself. But part of him felt he wasn't ready, either, that this was too fast, it was all wrong.  
  
But he didn't have time for doubts, so he worked hard to rise to the occasion and do everything that was expected of him and more. Then suddenly he was out of time. Bill and Desmond would be leaving tomorrow, and Shaun just felt... numb. Maybe it was all he'd tried to absorb in the last few weeks, maybe it was the constant lack of sleep and he was just _tired_. They had a sort of going-away party, and Desmond was quiet throughout. Bill tried to cajole a smile or two out of him, but Desmond wouldn't and Bill didn't press him for it. Desmond just picked at his cake and then asked to be excused at what appeared to be the first moment he felt appropriate. Bill let him go, and Desmond disappeared down the hall that led to the private quarters.   
  
Shaun himself didn't stay too much longer. He wanted to sleep, because after seeing the two of them off very _early_ the next morning, he had a _lot_ of things to do. Bill's replacement would be here in another three days, and until then would be a trial run to see just how much Shaun had absorbed. Three days was enough time to catch him slipping, but not so much that it would be irrecoverable if he did. Three days to see if he could take on the full responsibilities of a mentor before they finished the training. Normally, Shaun would have had to actually go to another cell to train, but these were not exactly normal circumstances.  
  
He had a surprise waiting for him in his quarters. He nearly yelped when he turned on the light and saw Desmond sitting there, on his bed, looking as miserable as Shaun had ever seen him. "Desmond? What's wrong?," he asked, but Desmond just stared at Shaun with wide, wet eyes. "Desmond, are you hurt? Did something happen?," he asked, panic creeping into his voice as he moved close to look at Desmond, see if maybe he'd hurt himself.  
  
But when he was close enough, Desmond just threw his arms around Shaun's waist and started crying. Shaun had not been prepared for this, of course, and nearly toppled over, but he managed to stay upright somehow. "Desmond?," he asked, and his arms sort of flailed about uselessly before he settled one hand on Desmond's head, patting him awkwardly. "Desmond, what's wrong?," he asked.  
  
"I'm leaving," he said. "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I don't want to go!" He sounded so sad, and it wasn't like Shaun was made of stone.   
  
"Oh," he said. "You've made a lot of friends here, huh?," he asked. "Just because you're leaving doesn't mean you won't get to talk to them," he said, and Desmond shook his head, and tightened his hold a bit. Shaun hadn't thought it possible, but it seemed Desmond started crying even _harder_.  
  
"This might be easier if I sit down, Desmond, just...here," he said, sort of shuffling over to his bed since Desmond didn't actually let him go. He loosened the boy's hold long enough to sit properly and Desmond hung back then, sniffling and rubbing at his face. "We've got e-mail, and skype is a thing, you know. I...well, I haven't shown you skype, and maybe Rebecca hasn't either, but...there's always skype, and phones," he said, but Desmond shook his head.   
  
"Dad said I won't be able to talk to anyone here," Desmond moaned, and a new batch of tears was already making their way down his face. "He says its for the best that we 'cut our ties'," and despite his distress, Shaun could clearly hear Bill's intonation in those words. "I don't want to go, Shaun," he whispered, and Shaun sighed.   
  
"Desmond, I know it might not seem like it right now, but this might be for the best. Your father is trying to do what's right for you, and what's right isn't always what's easy." Shaun tried to keep his voice gentle, but he knew Desmond didn't want to hear it, that this might be the time he chose to finally hate that Shaun was nothing less than completely honest with him. "This place...isn't as safe as it might seem. You can understand that your father wants to make sure you're safe, right?," he asked.  
  
Desmond was staring at him like Shaun had let him down, and he felt awful all over again. He'd have to take his own words to heart; what's right isn't always easy. Desmond was still crying, but he _listened_ , and he finally nodded. "Shaun...are you going to miss me?," he asked after a minute of awkward sniffling and face-wiping.  
  
"Of course I am," he said. "You're my friend, too, Desmond, and I'll miss you." How weird that he could say this so easily to _this_ Desmond, how certain he was of it this time around. "And we won't stop being friends just because we're apart. Once you've grown up a bit, we'll be able to talk again," he said. Of course, Desmond might forget this, might forget him and Rebecca and his friends topside. Might forget all about the Assassins and the Templars and his robots and his games. But maybe he wouldn't. Shaun genuinely wanted him to be happy, wanted that more than he wanted a good field agent. "I promise," he added, because it felt like maybe he should, and also because he meant it.  
  
Desmond nodded. "Can...can I sleep in here tonight? I'll drag in the cot, and I don't snore, I promise!," he said, and he was so fervent that Shaun could not say no.   
  
"Go on, get your stuff, then," he said. "But I am going to text your father and let him know, alright?," he asked, already pulling his phone from his pocket. It took all of ten seconds to send the text, and Bill replied so quickly Shaun had to wonder if he'd expected this.  
  
 _Make sure he's up at 5:30._  
  
So Shaun set his alarm and went to find Desmond who was taking so long because he couldn't move the cot, actually - Shaun carried it while Desmond got his bedding. Shaun changed into his nightclothes and brushed his teeth while Desmond set up the cot, and Desmond did the same when he was finished. They climbed into their beds, and for a while, neither slept. It took Shaun a little to adjust to the sounds of another person in his quarters, but eventually he was dozing.  
  
"I'll miss you too, Shaun," Desmond murmured, and Shaun wasn't quite asleep, not yet, so he made a sort of grunt in return. He drifted a little bit more, unable to sleep fully since Desmond kept tossing and turning. Just as he was on the cusp of sleep, though, he felt his own bed shift, and realized distantly that Desmond must be climbing in. He was too tired to care, so long as Desmond was _quiet_ , but once in Shaun's bed, he dropped off to sleep immediately - and true to his word, he did not snore.   
  
The next morning, though, Shaun would think that he _should_ have cared, because when his alarm went off at five a.m., it wasn't an eight-year-old who was sprawled on his bed, half out of the blankets. Instead, it was a full-grown Desmond, a returned-to-his-adult-body Desmond, a technically-naked Desmond, because his clothes had not survived the transformation and were now in pieces across the bed. And that made the morning _really_ awkward.


	7. Chapter 7

It was kind of weird that he missed Desmond, because Desmond was still here. Desmond was _back_ , in fact. But he missed the child-Desmond, missed the easy trust and the laughter and the enthusiasm he'd showed with Shaun's interests. After that extremely strange and uncomfortable morning, Desmond had kind of avoided him, and Shaun understood; it had been _really_ strange and uncomfortable, for all parties. Plus, he had no idea if Desmond even remembered being a kid this time around. If he kept his original memories and had these too, or...or maybe these had replaced his other memories? Bill might know, but Shaun hadn't asked, because he wasn't even sure what answer he wanted.  
  
He wasn't surprised, however, when Desmond finally sought him out. He hadn't gone back to the field yet, which was probably for the best, all things considered. Mostly he just wandered the temple, quietly. But then he appeared right there, in Shaun's doorway, and Shaun started when he saw him and realized he had no idea how long Desmond had been waiting there, just watching.  
  
"Desmond. Can I help you?," he asked, because what else could he say? He wasn't particularly busy today, just making sure he was updated on Abstergo's movements and whether this affected safehouses or escape routes - he'd kept himself up to date ever since the disastrous emergency that he'd been totally unprepared for. There had also been _other_ consequences to that event that he didn't like to think about, so it was best for such situations to be avoided entirely. He didn't want to make a habit of climbing trees, after all.  
  
"Yeah, you got a minute?," he asked, and there was something odd in his tone.  
  
"Sure," he said. "You only need a minute, right?," he asked, and Desmond smirked just a little bit before he shook his head.  
  
"Yeah, no, I lied. Probably longer. But maybe not. I just wanted to ask you something, really," he said, and Shaun realized then what was making him nervous - it was Desmond himself, who was no longer looking at him, was shifting on his feet and tugging at his clothing. Shaun wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation, whatever it was, but he pushed away from the computer all the same.  
  
"Go on," he said, sitting on the edge of his desk and shrugging, trying for casual.  
  
"You...when I was a kid, turned into a kid, I mean, I.. I remember everything," he said, and Shaun laughed softly.  
  
"Ah, well, I wasn't sure you would," Shaun replied, slowly.  
  
"I do, though. Everything, and it's weird. I was a kid, I didn't remember any of you, and I was meeting you all for the first time, and.. You were nice to me," he said, and Shaun frowned, because that actually sounded like an accusation; and maybe what he'd been _could_ be described as perhaps a bit nicer, but he wasn't sure where Desmond was going with this. "You were nicer to me as a kid than you've ever been to me as an adult, and I guess I wondered why."  
  
Desmond was looking at him squarely, watching him so intently, and it was almost like déjà vu, just like the expression he'd given when he'd examined Shaun after his apology before deciding to accept it.  
  
"I'm not sure I agree," Shaun said. "I wasn't _that_ much nicer, surely."  
  
"But you were. You don't even realize it, but you were. You made time for me, you talked to me, you _listened_ to me, and you treated me like an adult, which is something you barely do even though I _am_ an adult, Shaun," he said, and Shaun stood up then, ready to be defensive.  
  
"Now that's not fair," he said, but Desmond moved, slashed his hand through the air in denial.  
  
"No, it is. I mean, you got better after the coma thing, but even then you'd speak your piece and then send me away. We'd have a decent conversation and then you'd just be done. 'I'm busy, Desmond' 'Don't you have somewhere to be, Desmond?' You even _apologized_ to me when you hurt my feelings, and that isn't something I was even sure you _could_ do. I used to think you'd combust before ever admitting you could be wrong."  
  
Shaun was silent for a moment, not even sure what he could say to that, but Desmond wasn't finished.  
  
"And that's the weirdest thing, because I _liked_ you, Shaun. I mean, I've always liked you, but - but as a kid, I wanted your approval, and your words just devastated me that day. The thought that I was a burden to you absolutely _crushed_ me. And then you climbed the tree to apologize, and you _meant_ it. That meant the world to me."  
  
Shaun just stared at him, because yeah, Desmond had cried a bit, but the way he was putting it now sounded like he all but worshipped Shaun, and that was weird and wrong, in a strangely flattering sort of way.  
  
"But _why?_ ," he asked, because he hadn't noticed any of that, not at all. "I mean, you just spent some afternoons with me, really. I don't understand."  
  
"That's exactly it, you don't. You didn't then and you don't now. Shaun, I researched things _just so I could impress you_ ," he said. "I spent hours in front of the laptop because I wanted so badly to...," he trailed off, then shook his head. "I idolized you, and you really had no idea?," he asked.  
  
Shaun could only shake his head. "I...I didn't. I was surprised you didn't get tired of me, honestly. But I never... how was I to know?," he asked. He didn't ask _why are you telling me this?_ because the question was too terrifying and the answer could only be worse.  
  
"Maybe because I couldn't stop talking about you? God, you honestly didn't know? I know Rebecca told you, at some point. I know my father told you, too. I was always talking about you, jesus. Pathetic," he spat, and Shaun swallowed. He wanted so badly to ask if it was all in the past tense, because those were things he wanted from Desmond _now_ , things he'd always wanted from Desmond, but somehow he'd fucked it up when he'd had it without even knowing.  
  
"No, it's not!," he blurted out, and Desmond paused. "I... I mean...," he swallowed. He felt a little panicked, and couldn't even brace himself for the flood of words he already couldn't stop. "Desmond, I... originally it was because I was needed. Your father told me we had to rotate our time with you because he wasn't going to send you away, but we had responsibilities. But you, you listened to me, too, Desmond. You listened to me talk, you paid attention and you asked questions, and you seemed... interested," he murmured, flushing a little because God, this was humiliating. "I thought, you know, you'd get bored of it. Hell, even Bill did - he said I should just let you play games the entire time because we both agreed that actually speaking with me is an experience most people aren't eager to have often or for very long." It had mostly been a joke at the time, though. "But you didn't, and I guess it was nice, is all. It's not like I didn't like you either. I genuinely had fun, those days."  
  
"But why was it so different? I've always listened to you, Shaun. Even when you weren't talking. I read every single database entry - I still do. Did you know that? I know you still update it, and I read every single one," and Shaun just stared, because he couldn't parse that information. What did that even _mean?_  
  
"I...I didn't," he managed, and Desmond continued, pacing and ranting.  
  
"I thought I was being transparent. I was always bothering you, _constantly_ , and you honestly had no idea?"  
  
"Desmond, you were stuck in a warehouse and then a cave with only three other people in it. You bothered _everyone_ constantly. I thought you were just humoring me. Wait, what are you saying?," he asked, and suddenly he had to know, because this was all too surreal, and Desmond was hinting at things that he'd thought were completely impossible.  
  
Desmond stopped pacing near the doorway and just stood there, just looked at Shaun for a long moment. Despite himself, Shaun held his breath, barely able to keep from looking away. "I'm saying, Shaun, that I've always listened. I've always been _interested_. And you never even noticed."  
  
"Y...You can't be serious," he breathed, and somehow there didn't seem to be enough air in the room; he felt lightheaded.  
  
"Why not?," Desmond asked, _as if he had no idea._  
  
"Look at you! You can't be serious," he repeated, and Desmond actually did looked down at himself then back up to Shaun, cocking one brow. "Desmond, you're... ah, people like you aren't ever into people like me, alright?," and maybe it came out a little sharper and more desperate than he'd intended, but in his experience, it had always been true. He had very few people who wanted to be his friend, much less anything more, despite how much of a show he put on to the contrary. Being in the Assassins only made it worse, because it wasn't like he could date outside the organization, and within it, he had a reputation. Also contrary to the image he cultivated, sometimes such things _did_ matter to him; he was entirely capable of feeling lonely, and quite often, he did.  
  
Desmond just stared at him for a moment before laughing, dropping his head into his hands and just laughing. His shoulders were shaking from the force of it. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. You're saying this entire time we've just been, what, reading each other wrong?," he asked.  
  
"No, because I am genuinely an asshole, Desmond, I know you've noticed this. And I've always been 'interested', sure, but we were also really _busy_ and all that, so I was deliberately extra rude any time you paid me too much attention because I didn't want to get used to it, or maybe allow myself to hope," he growled, but Desmond just kept laughing.  
  
"Yeah, you're a sorry asshole, alright, but you're funny, and you're hot, and I'm guessing you have no idea what that does for me."  
  
Shaun just flushed scarlet. "Shut up, shut up, it's not... alright, I am funny, I'll give you that. But skinny ginger nerds do nothing for _anyone_ ," he spat, crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't like he didn't have _any_ self-esteem, but next to someone with looks like Desmond's, with such an easy sort of charm, well... it was hard not to compare himself, always unfavorably.  
  
Desmond frowned, though, and pushed off of the doorframe where he'd been leaning. "Jesus, do you actually think that?," he asked, moving closer. "Oh my god, Shaun, I don't really have a single 'type', but 'skinny ginger nerds' who are fucking brilliant and sarcastic and funny and _hot_ definitely do it for me," he breathed, and he was only a few feet away now. Shaun backed up, but he'd only been a few inches from his desk, and when he felt the edge of it against the back of his thighs, he felt trapped all of a sudden.  
  
"Don't," he said sharply. "Don't tease me, Desmond, that's not-"  
  
"For fuck's sake, Shaun, I'm not teasing! Do you honestly find it hard to believe that I find you attractive?," he asked, and he seemed both far too close and too far away.  
  
"I... do you really find it hard to believe that the answer to that is yes?"  
  
"I don't know what happened to make you think that, but jesus, Shaun, if you ever came into my bar, you'd have free drinks all night, and the last one would come with a wink and my number."  
  
Shaun had to stop short at that because, really? "Does that actually work?," he asked, and he was going for dubious, but truth be told, it probably would have worked on him, even after he'd sobered up. He wouldn't entertain the notion that the man was serious, but he'd have been reluctantly charmed all the same.  
  
"Uh, yeah, more than you might think," he said, and looked away, and Shaun laughed, all the tension drained from him at that sheepish expression.  
  
"So, we're both idiots," he said, and Desmond smiled at him, warm and familiar and it was different from any other expression Shaun had ever seen on him. There was a treacherous sort of quiver in his stomach, and he swallowed.  
  
"Yeah," Desmond agreed, low and smooth and he stepped closer. "Shaun, I'm going to kiss you now," he murmured, and Shaun nodded eagerly, already leaning forward, because he'd definitely imagined it and it was more than time to make it happen now that he realized it was actually a thing that _could_.  
  
Desmond was still smiling when their lips met. He was gentle, his hand curled against Shaun's neck and he just stayed for a moment, brushing their lips together over and over until Shaun couldn't stand it. He grabbed Desmond's hoodie and tugged, even as his tongue slid against Desmond's mouth. That earned him a hungry noise and suddenly Desmond was closer, was pressing into Shaun's space, pressing against him, his own tongue slicking into Shaun's mouth. It was by turns hot and aggressive, then sweet and gentle. Desmond's hand settled on Shaun's back, his thumb tracing back and forth in a way that was _incredibly_ distracting.  
  
Shaun finally pushed him back a little, his breathing more than a little compromised. "Fuck," he managed, and hoped to god he didn't look as wrecked as he felt. Desmond looked like he'd just had the snogging of his life, and well, maybe Shaun was a little smug at that. "Fuck," he repeated again, because he couldn't think of anything else.  
  
Desmond just smiled. He hadn't stopped, really. "Yeah, well, I was hoping. I mean, uh, eventually. Y'know, if you wanted to," he murmured, and Shaun just stared.  
  
"If I wanted to? Desmond, you can't be...," he began. " _If_ I wanted to? God, you're hopeless. We're both hopeless," he groaned. "Look, it's not really appropriate to sneak off in the middle of the workday, so I must insist we wait until nightfall at the earliest," he said, as primly as he could manage, but Desmond's grin only widened.  
  
"Oooh, don't think you're moving a little fast, Hastings?," he asked, raising a brow. His smile wasn't as big; it was teasing now, playful. Had he always been like this and Shaun had just _missed_ it? Well, no more!  
  
"Well, I suppose if you prefer the more traditional route, I'm sure I can arrange a proper date somehow. Canned dinner topside, perhaps on a blanket we'll have to wash later?," he asked. "We'll have a romantic view of trees and mud, and the gentle glow of our cell phone screens to set the mood," he added. "I'll wear my best work attire and will look absolutely dashing, and you'll wear your least-torn jeans and your finest hoodie."  
  
"You certainly know how to show a guy a good time. But I won't be dashing? At least handsome, c'mon," Desmond argued, but his smile remained.  
  
Shaun pushed him back a little more, and let his eyes rake over Desmond's form, slow and deliberate. "Well, if you really want an adjective, I suppose I could settle on 'appealing'," he finally said. "There's no accounting for taste, it seems; I had to have a flaw somewhere."  
  
"Oh god, just shut up," Desmond growled, but he was laughing and pulling Shaun close for another kiss, so clearly he agreed on all points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, that's the fic! Hope you enjoyed it. :3


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